In Her Eyes
by dragonflybeth
Summary: The story takes place in a flashback from Lili's perspective from when she and Yona were kidnapped by the nadai merchant, Tsubaru, and depicts their lives as slaves. There are two extra chapters that include the Kingdom Creation Myth and a glimpse of Su-won's thoughts.
1. Chapter 1

In Her Eyes

"A marriage meeting, and with king Suwon of all people" I muttered, "If it had been anyone else, maybe I could've accepted it. But I can't. Not with him."

"Your thoughts show all over your face you know." A familiar voice came from behind me. I looked up and glared at him from the mirror. He smiled back innocently. If I didn't know better, I would have been totally fooled.

Why him? Of all people, at this timing, why did it have to be he who stood before me? Just like the first time I'd met him, his blue eyes bright, brimming with vitality and mischief and just a hint of grief.

"It's almost time," he continued, his voice as gentle as ever.

My lips parted; I wanted to hiss out venomous words, words of scorn and of disdain, but I couldn't seem to find them. What came out instead was…

"She loved you," my voice cracked slightly, and I turned my face to the side, away from the mirror, so that he wouldn't my reflection or the tears brimming in my eyes. With each word, an echo of truth rang out in my heart. "She loved you." And she still does, I thought to myself.

"You hurt her. Stepped all over her." But I too, didn't I betray her?

"Stay away from her." It was all just an excuse.

"You don't deserve her." But who was I to say that? When I couldn't even bear to look her in the eye.

"I never want to see you again." Lies. They were all lies. But I didn't want to recognize that. I didn't want to see how I truly felt.

Su-won remained behind me, silent and I began to regret what I'd said. Why wasn't he answering? Why wouldn't he refute any of it? Why was he just taking all my anger? I couldn't help but take a peek at the mirror; what was reflected in it stunned me. A soft, sad smile spread across his face, painting an image of heartache, dejection and most of all, bereavement.

And then I remembered, that time, three months ago, when I'd last seen that expression, when I'd last seen Yona.

There was an awful stale taste in my mouth. The hay beneath me was stained in suspiciously rusty tones. They were splattered all over the hay on the wooden panels of the ground. No, not the ground. Some sort of surface. The floor of a carriage. A scream came from off in the distance, chilling me to the bone, then faded into an uneasy silence. Where was I? I only remembered walking around and then… That's right. We'd been captured. My eyes searched the darkness frantically. Yona, where is she?

An intangible fear cloaked me. Like bugs, infesting and engulfing me. It felt disgusting, revolting, nauseating. My heart thumped out of my chest, pounding until I thought I'd die. And I trembled. I tremored. Shivered. I rolled over and off my back, gagging and retching out the contents of my empty stomach. Then, I heard a rustling to my side. I reached out and felt her familiar curly short hair and collapsed, letting out a sigh of relief. But before I could completely relax, a cloth covered my mouth, and my consciousness succumbed to the darkness.

The next time I awoke, the sun was already up, high above in the sky, the hottest time of the day. A pungent and penetrating odor wafted through the air, waking me suddenly. With a body covered in sweat, beaten black and blue from the irregular movements of my body rolling around on the hard floor, I groaned as I pulled myself up to sit on my knees. Yona was already up beside me, staring in awe. At least that's what I thought at the time. It was only when I saw it for myself that I noted the pale drained color of her skin and clenched fists. It wasn't awe, it was dread. The world crumbled upon me.

"What…" I croaked out, "What is all of this?"

Yona shook her head slowly. I couldn't tear my eyes away from them, but I couldn't bear to watch them. So I pulled my gaze away and glanced towards Yona. A single word left her lips, too quiet for me to hear amongst the pandemonium. But I could see it, I could read the movements of the mouth. And her voice rang clear into my mind. "Slaves."

A man stumbled toward me. He looked to me with hazy bloodshot eyes. And pleaded to me with hoarse desperate cries. His cheekbones were sunken with a forlorn expression. He had already lost all hope.

Back then, back in the water county, those addicted to nadai were different. Their eyes sought out salvation. They sought out beauty and kindness and anything that could bring them the slightest bit of comfort. But here, there was nothing left, there was no reprieve from the drought. Only meaningless tears. Sniveling in pity. And their debilitated bodies grew frailer and more sickly with each day that passed. With such battered bodies, they labored. And if they fell, they were discarded.

With only nadai to console their bodies, with only nadai to lighten their burdens, how could they not grow addicted? Slaves to Sei, slaves to nadai. And each day, more slaves were being brought in. Even the women and children were given no consideration. Or rather, they were the ones who submitted the most easily and who fell the fastest.

"They won't give you water here, only wine. In such a dry place, how long can you persist for?" Tsubaru had said that to me once, and those words played back in my mind, but I shook myself free. I was afraid of giving in, and suffering the same fate as these people. But at least for now, I could persist for just a little longer.

I know what these soldiers are thinking. They believe that the easiest way to get someone to obey them is pain. Without light a person's fear multiplies. And without a means of escape, there is no light. Eyes closed, the enslaved can only hope for the nightmare to pass. They can only release their grievances and drive the rhythm of their labor into their bodies, down to their bones It is the only way to escape from the depravity eating away from their souls. By having eyes that don't see, ears that don't hear, and flesh that can take a beating, even if their bodies and minds are worn out, they can still live to see another day. That is the way of these people.

The heat was inescapable, its only reprieve was the night. But the night was, in its own ways, terrible. The silence of the night was polluted by muffled sounds of crying and whimpers of distress. While those sounds could be heard during the day, somehow, the light of the sun, that made me curse its heat, could chase away my distress. Those sounds were living nightmares, specifically tailored for the night. But worst of all, the night gave me time to think. Time. With time came atrocious realizations. It was during the night that I came to realize, that the awful stench that permeated in the air was the smell of the corpses of the dead that had begun to rot, diffusing into every nook and cranny, until even the living smelled like the dead. It was during the night when my worst nightmares and deepest fears, things that I'd never thought could happen, became a reality.

Nightfall meant night patrols. Soldiers marched past our sleeping bodies, counting the number of survivors at the end of the day. We all lay, still as corpses, in rows, holding our breaths, waiting for the soldier on duty to finish up and leave. Those soldiers had dead eyes. I hadn't noticed it until later, but they were uncannily similar to ours. Confined. Delusioned. Desensitized. Of course, they had to be, otherwise they wouldn't have been able to commit such acts of inhumanity. They weren't naturally born cruel, they were the same as us; they'd just grown used to it. They had to live someway, somehow. And with that numbness came the sense of being glad that they weren't in our positions. That they were superior to us. Because they were better. Because they were stronger. Because they were destined for more than just a grungy life, living on the brink of death. And certainly, most definitely, not for the simple reason of being luckier. Watching us suffer, they convinced themselves that they would be out of here soon enough. So they watched us as we slaved on with those dead eyes, that had long since lost their empathy.

Then, one particular night, on the second or third night after we'd been brought to the fortress, the man beside me began acting up in his sleep, scratching at his skin as if he was trying to tear his skin off. I cringed, eyeing the soldier that was just moments away from reaching our row. "Stop scratching," I whispered, as harshly as I could while keeping quiet, "The soldier is about to pass by." The man didn't seem to hear me though, and continued struggling with himself. Fortunately, just as the soldier scanned over our row, the man's actions stilled and I let out a quiet sigh of relief.

But as soon as the soldier passed us, the man started up again. Reaching out, I attempted to rouse the man from his nightmare while the soldier's back was still turned.

"Wake up!" I hissed. "Please, wake up." I continued to shake him, but the man just turned over, continuing to itch and scratch at himself, writhing. From the corner of my eye, I saw the soldier begin to turn around and instinctively withdrew my hand. Then, I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for it to begin.

It didn't take long, but it felt like forever; hearing the soldier's footsteps as they crunched down on the sand and rocks. "Hey!" I heard a thudding noise, followed by a groan. "What do you think you're doing?" I heard a cracking noise, followed by more thuds. Creaking bones and popping joints. The man groaned and whimpered. "Quiet down. Stop moving around." The soldier began to swear and I clenched my hands tightly. I wanted to cover my ears but I couldn't move. If I did, I'd end up just like all the others. Then, finally, it was over. Just as suddenly as it had started, the soldier left, cursing at how he'd made a mess of his boots. And night patrol was over.

I opened my eyes and saw a disheveled mess of a man lying beside me. He was curled up in a ball protecting his stomach and his left arm was contorted in a strange way. His face was beaten until he was unrecognizable. Blood gurgled up his throat and he spewed it out on the ground between us. I felt vomit rise in my stomach and I swallowed it back down. I shuddered at the sight of the man before me. That could have been me. One day, that will be me, I thought to myself. I felt a warm hand touch my shoulder and turned me over, gently but firmly. It was Yona.

"Follow my lead," she told me. Then, she held her breath and counted to ten slowly and releasing all air, she raised her right hand up to the sky. I tried to warn her that the soldiers might see, but she shushed me and murmured under her breath, as if praying, "The stars are so bright here. Can't you see it? Even in a place like this, the stars are so beautiful. They're so close we can almost reach them. Almost… just a little bit more. Just hold out a little bit more, the end is so close." She stretched her hand out as far as she could. "We'll be alright," she comforted me. "Just hold out a bit longer and I'll find a way out of here."

With that, I began shaking. "It's hopeless," I cried with my head in my hands, voice muffled so that we wouldn't be heard. "We can't reach it. We're stuck here." Because all that I could see was that the stars were out of her reach.

Yona turned to face me and her eyes softened, "Would you like to hear a story?" Then, she proceeded to tell me her favorite fairytale. In my presence, she had never spoken of any of her secrets aloud; it was her expressions that told me everything. I knew that the questions I'd asked had been far too personal for her to lie about, even if she intended to hide the truth. I knew how much pain she was going through, yet I went on with my silly rants and complaints, and brought that distraught expression to her face. Her flaws, her worries, the direction she wanted to go in. I thought I knew all of them, but it was just an illusion. I disregarded all the signs and barged straight through doing whatever I wanted. I couldn't even call myself inadvertent; I was simply being ignorant. I can't forgive myself because I promised that I'd run after her, that I'd be friends with her. I swore to myself that next time, I would be the one save her. And here she was, comforting me again.

That small stature, those quivering shoulders, those trembling hands. They matched mine. And yet the warmth in her was so overwhelming, they brought me baseless strength and the will to continue, no matter the consequences. That web of scars and scratched rough skin, calluses imprinted on her hands. Proof of her efforts. And things I'd never had, and never will, if I stayed under the protection of my father. Don't you know, Yona? After I met you, that easy and worry-free life became stifling. How can you be so strong? Why does it have to be you, of all people to remind me? Just one look at makes me apologetic and sorrowful. I'm full of pride because you are our Kouka's princess, yet at the same time, I feel mortified. I'm shameful of myself, because of what I, and all this land's people, have allowed this princess has become. Repentant and remorseful because of who I am, and who she is, and everything that is out of my sphere of control. But what frustrates me most of all, what irks me most of all, what gives me hope and shows me the way forward, is to see, with my own two eyes, what you have achieved.

The days passed mindlessly. I lost track of all time and just labored on. I felt it being beaten into my body, the way these people lived. The thirst burned at my throat. Some days I just felt like dying. Maybe it would be easier. But Yona was beside me. Moreover, I couldn't let go of that rage. The feeling of wanting to prove these people wrong. And to show them the inhumanity of their actions. But time continued to pass, and it became unbearable. And seeing me waver the slightest bit, the soldiers gave me a merciless slap of reality and Yona calmed me again and again. "Lili, you're not shameful at all. You didn't do anything wrong." That's right; being thirsty isn't shameful; wanting isn't shameful; what's most shameful is losing yourself in the process and letting trivial matters get in the way of doing what you want to do. But no matter how much I told myself this, it just wasn't enough. I could feel myself slipping away, my identity fading and only leaving behind this mess of feelings: suffering, rage, and a love for something that was slowly disappearing from my sight.

Eventually, I began to show the telltale signs of cracking, before we went to sleep, Yona hugged me and whispered once more, "Just a little longer." That night, after the night patrol was over, after I fell asleep, Yona left me. "Just a little longer," she had promised me. But I didn't realize the meaning of those words until it was almost too late. If only I had been a little bit stronger. Maybe then she would have had more options. What moved her into action was my deteriorating condition and my waning determination. To her, I must have seemed like a candle flickering in the wind, steadily burning out yet desperately holding onto life, fighting against an indomitable force. And she began to rush. She began to panic. She began to force herself to do reckless things that would put her in danger again. Why didn't I recognize it sooner, that my actions would prompt her into doing so?

I felt glad for my thirst. Because it had woken me that night when nothing else could have. If the suffering that I'd endured for days was all to ensure that I would wake up at that moment, I would have gladly gone through it again, even if the conditions had been a hundred, no, a thousand times worse.

It was during the night when my worst nightmares and deepest fears, things that I'd never thought could happen, became a reality. I'd said that before, hadn't I? But that night, was the worst of them all. That night was unforgettable in a terrifying way. Because that night, I killed a person. I'd stabbed him, a soldier that tried to hurt Yona and I, and I could still feel the sensation of the sharp edge sinking into the tender flesh of his neck. It slid in much more easily than I thought it would. At that moment, I cried, I trembled, I stuttered out a weak confession. I would have frozen on the spot, but Yona pulled me into her arms and settled me down. It was only later that it came to my attention that back then, I'd felt shock, guilt and a myriad of feelings that I couldn't quite explain, and yet oddly enough, I felt no remorse. I was protected by Yona, but for once, I managed to protect her in turn. A strange feeling filled me, not quite realization, not quite empathy. A sense of recognition and understanding that made me recall a phrase from an old book that I'd read, way back before this had happened. "If you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you: he tormentor becomes the tormented. People become what they love and hate, because their mind focuses on it. The hall of mirrors folding in upon itself. I'd never really understood what it meant until then.

Yona and Suwon were broken. They were irrevocably, immutably, irreversibly damaged. The type of harm that couldn't be fixed. Their relationship so fragmented, so shattered, so mutilated and disfigured that their conflicting feelings went past just love, sorrow and hatred. It was far more. A mix of everything and nothing and anything that fell between. And somehow, along the way, while being so enraptured them, I'd started becoming similar to them. Just the way that they carried themselves and the decisions they made. To destroy yourself for the sake of others; I could feel that growing within me. A little seedling, barely a sprout, but it was there. It wasn't anything so noble as martyrdom or selflessness. It was the act of suppressing, incinerating, disintegrating my own feelings and even to the point of discarding my own life, to know and be able to guarantee the safety and happiness of my loved ones. Looking at it from God's perspective, and seeing all the cruel and abhorrent things that could happen in this world, it may even be the most selfish wish of all.

Hysteria had filled me and given me strength until I was no longer afraid of dying, only afraid of those around me getting hurt. I was blinded by that fit of mania and delirium, blinded by panic and the next thing I knew, an invisible hand of death gripped me, the ropes tightening around I throat. I wanted to smile in satisfaction but what came out instead were silent, wordless screams for help. I opened my tear-stained eyes to see a battlefield, vaguely recognizing the Sai soldiers, Kouka's wind and earth tribes, the dragon warriors and the fleeing slaves, my gaze snagging on Tetra and father before honing in Yona, sitting in the midst of it all, looking as if the world was crushing down upon her. Don't look like that, I wanted to tell her. Everything will be alright. Because that's the kind of person Yona is, one who has the strength of kindness and compassion to save our kingdom, a figure much too important to die here. And for a moment, I stopped struggling and just focused on conveying my thoughts to her. My body convulsed but I looked her straight in the eye and tried to get just that one thought go through, "Even if I die, if you live, I have no regrets." And that moment, she widened her eyes in shock, hope, rage, yet grief all at the same moment. I thought the message had gotten through, but then I felt my body freefalling, lungs gasping for air, and enough pain to realize that I was still quite alive. A pair of warm hands caught me just before I hit the ground. I let the warmth and comfort fill me, finally feeling relaxed for the first time in days, and lost myself to the exhaustion.

That was the last time I saw Yona. What had felt an eternity was only five days. It took a mere five days to reduce me to that state. Back then, I thought I was going to die. The thought had been lingering in the back of my mind the entire time, just a shadow of doubt. I saw it, and I know Yona must have seen it in me too.

That's when I truly thought about death. What is it? Where does it come from? What is it like? What stops me from dying here on the spot? And that thought, brought me a whole other question. I wondered, who is the one who suffers the most: the one who is left behind, or the one leaving? But lately, I've begun to think I that the worst goodbyes aren't ones that come from out of the blue, but rather ones that you've known about or a long time. For her, at least she can cry and get angry and throw tantrums. But no matter how much time he gives himself to prepare, will he ever be able be ready to betray a friend like that? He can only turn his back to her as he's leaving. He can't look back, he can't regret, because he was the one who made this decision. He can only put on a stoic front and pretend that everything is ok. I sympathized with him and it felt wrong, like my very nature was betraying Yona.

But what was most unforgivable was that I'd dreamt of it. Every night, since we met, since I realized his identity, I dreamt. Of him, looking at me with an expression I've never seen before. Using a voice I've never heard before, telling me he wants to change himself for me and everything else that i want to hear. And his words comforted me, like sweet nothings whispered in my ears. Instead of feeling guilty, I liked the way he looked at me, the way he called my name, and his warmth. I allowed myself to get swept away in a fairytale fantasy.

He's thought about it. He's thought it all through. He knew Yona would react this way. Maybe that's why I find it so hard to hate him. Because he obviously still loves her. And every day, I find myself falling more in love with the Su-won that loves Yona.

"Ah... it's alright, even if I'm not forgiven," I said, in an undertone. Because that was what she taught me. To move forward without regrets and be true to myself. To betray that, would be worse than anything else. I don't care if things are irreparable between the two of them. I will fight reason itself and swear to never abandon either of them. Because in this moment, he's looking only at me and I just can't resist it anymore.

I watched as Su-won recomposed himself and left the room, calling out to me to say that we didn't have much time left before the ceremony. Then, smoothing out my bridal wear and brushing my tears away, I turned and followed him. The door shut closed behind me, and I felt those thoughts being locked away, never to surface again. Sinking deep into the depths of my heart.


	2. Chapter 1-1

Kingdom Creation Myth

Yona's POV

"Would you like to hear a story?" I asked Lili. It had been dreadful night, and we'd watched the most appalling scene, so I couldn't help but feel like lightening up the situation." Lili nodded in response, once, twice, three times, then snuggled closer to me.

"Have you ever read the kingdom creation myth?" I asked her

"Once, when I was younger. Before it was deemed a forbidden text. But I don't remember much. I only remember what I've heard from whispered rumors of the old legends. It's a taboo subject that everyone in the older generation knows about."

"It was my favorite story when I was younger. It was a tale of when the red dragon god took on human form, descending from heaven to rule a kingdom. That was the first king of Kouka, King Hiryuu. My father often told me about him in the past. But once King Hiryuu became human…"

As I spoke I could hear the echoes of my father's voice, and almost see the wrinkles on his brow. Ones that I hadn't noticed back then. In those days before that text was banned.

"However, in the end, even King Hiryuu, who as a dragon had loved humans with all his heart, began to fight against them. He had no choice, because the people's hearts grew wicked with evil; they forgot their god, and the country fell to ruin. King Hiryuu was captured by those who desired his power. At that time, it seemed as though everything was being destroyed, demolished, devastated. Consumed by chaos and shattered like glass. Yet just when everything seemed to be on the brink of falling into an endless darkness, the sky split open and light shone through. The light was blinding. The light was cleansing. The light burned bright and contained a rage that could not be described through words. And from that light, the four dragons descended from the heavens. At that moment, everything froze. The four dragons glanced toward Hiryuu, still bound, still tethered in chains. They watched the humans cower away with boundless fury and resentment in their eyes. Then they looked back at him sorrowfully, regretfully, while pleading, "Hiryuu, we have come for you. Let us destroy the humans who have forgotten their faith, and return to heaven!" But Hiryuu simply looked at each of them carefully, and with a gentle yet firm tone, responded, "No, I am human now. Though the humans may hate and betray me, I cannot help but love them." The dragons had no choice; they loved Hiryuu, and did not wish to lose him. However, they could not forgo Hiryuu's own wishes and forcefully bring him back. Thus, they made a pact. In order to protect Hiryuu, they gathered four human warriors. They gave the warriors blood and granted them strength. One gained sharp claws, a ferocious arm that could tear anything apart. One gained eyes that could see across great distances. One gained legs that could jump high, legs that could run through the skies. One gained a body that could never be injured, an eternal shield. As the four warriors felt the dragon blood rush through them and they heard those binding words, "You are now our other halves. You will serve Hiryuu as you master, protecting him with your lives. You will love him, and never betray him. Here, come, gather, and fulfill this ancient vow." And with the power of dragon gods, the warriors led their clans to protect Hiryuu, and brought order to the kingdom once more. The clans of King Hiryuu and the four dragon warriors suppressed the surrounding disturbances and expanded Kouka's territories. They were an unstoppable force. But it wasn't because the four dragons got along well; it was as though, as long as King Hiryuu was there, they could be connected. As friends. As family. But before long, Hiryuu grew tired. His body had aged, and he no longer wished to continue fighting. Then, one day, as he lay in bed, without saying a word, the red dragon fell asleep and the pact binding the four dragon warriors thus ended. When the four dragon warriors thought of their king, no longer moving, they wept. Hiryuu had left them without a word, leaving them to their own devices. They grieved, they lamented and they shed tears. But the cruelest part was that they did not know whether they grieved the loss of someone precious or if the dragon god blood within them mourned Hiryuu's death. Along with King Hiryuu, the four dragon warriors had pacified the country. However, peace is of little value to someone who is dying from hunger or cold. It will not remove the pain or torture inflicted on a prisoner of conscience. It does not comfort those who have lost their loved ones. The fires from small conflicts were always smoldering. And, even after the Hiryuu passed away, the dragon warriors kept getting pulled into disputes. They had long since forgotten; greed was human nature; it was a bottomless pit which exhausts the person in an endless effort to satisfy the need without ever reaching satisfaction. Realizing their power was beyond human control, the four dragon warriors left their tribes and disappeared. The tribes they left behind continued developing on their own, forming the five tribes of today."

Lili stayed silent, and for a moment I thought she'd fallen asleep. But then she looked up at me with tears welling up in her eyes. "Your companions… They're the descendants of the four dragon warriors, aren't they?"

I evaded her gaze for a moment, then I realized. This was Lili that I was speaking to. She wasn't a stranger. She wasn't just anyone. She was a friend. "You're right." I answered.

Lili nodded, her brow furrowed, and I knew that she was holding back. No doubt she had many questions to ask, so I continued, "Exchanging the white bond, devoting prayers in the blue night. The winding green seeds fall down, only leaving the golden one to harvest. The white dragon kept its vow, faithfully passing its culture down through the generations. Old to new the bonds exchanged. In contrast, the blue dragon lost its history, but upon instinct, prayed into the night, for the return of the Hiryuu. The green dragon lost its way searching for freedom, straying with the wind, but always came crashing down, bound to earth. And the golden dragon was the only one that remained. The sole dragon to live across generations to make it to this day. A guardian and eternal shield."


	3. Chapter 1-2

In His Eyes

I've never wished for her to just conveniently disappear. Because if she did, she'd take everything with her. Not just the sad memories, or the painful ones, or this feeling of indecision welling up within me that pesters me with each turn… but also the happy memories. All the times she turned and smiled to me. The smile that I'd always clung to. That smile that I couldn't look away from.

I was scared to see her angry expression. I was afraid to see her tears. Even more, I was terrified of her disappointment. But most of all, I feared the image that appeared in my dreams each night. To see her body and the blood pooling around her. It made my blood freeze. From that moment on, there was no telling what would happen. But I knew I would never be able to meet her gaze again. I would cease to breathe. And so, I clung to the sight of her smile.

And as I saw her smiling, as I saw her laughing, I laughed along with her. As I did, my heart lifted, yet, at the same time, felt just a little bit heavier.

My chest heaved and my body perspired, yet inside, my blood ran cold. And I was sure it pierced through my gaze as well. Why were the memories all coming back to me now? Now, as sword dyed in a crimson color lay in my hands. I made no move to clean the blade. I made no move to wipe the blood that had spattered upon my face. It was better for her to see me this way. Like a monster.

I'd known if for a long time. That when I became king, Yona and Hak would no longer be by my side. But those warm days always made me doubt myself, even just a little. But my right arm will soon be gone. As will the girl who gave me that warmth. By crushing them underfoot and casting them off, I will become emperor. And with that resolve in mind, I doubted myself no longer. In the end, even if it's God's will, even if it's destiny, I shall destroy it. So I watched, as the girl I trampled knelt before me. I watched as she looked at me with an expression I've never seen before. I watched as the light slowly extinguished from her eyes. I watched those tears I had always feared overflow and I just felt numb to it all. It was then that it occurred to me: Is that it? Is it all over? That was so much easier than I thought it would be. Yet somewhere deep inside, I felt something cracking; I felt something irreplaceable breaking. But I was so far gone, I couldn't even tell what it was anymore.


End file.
